


Muffled Light In The Darkness

by FictionPenned



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionPenned/pseuds/FictionPenned
Summary: Footsteps move behind her, and her shoulders tense.This is a proper city and not the small town that she hails from, thus not every noise at this time of night means danger, but Annie has a hero's instincts, and she knows when something sounds wrong.She starts to turn around, but swiftly finds an unforgiving circle of metal shoved into the small of her back. She can feel it through her jacket and the shirt beneath — cold, dangerous, and armed with a hair-trigger.She isn’t even dressed in hero garb, and yet here she is being held at gunpoint.Written for Whumptober 2020 Day 3 - Held At Gunpoint
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Muffled Light In The Darkness

Dozens of lights line the streets, but their light is muffled by the mist that clings to the city like a shroud, reduced to ghostly orbs that hang in midair and barely succeed in penetrating the shadows. 

Annie is unconcerned by the darkness. 

Light lives within her. It exists at her beck and call. She could illuminate the entire block if she wanted to — blow out bulbs and blind residents — but she won't. Not only because the idea of hurting somebody who does not deserve it is morally reprehensible, but because she is no longer allowed to use her powers outside of the strict confines of a mission with the Seven.

She's no longer allowed to do anything that she wants to do. 

Millions of children dream of being a member of the Seven — of achieving what she has achieved — yet success tastes bitter on her tongue. 

Everything about this job is hollow, violating, and disgusting, but Annie still clings to it with a vague and desperate hope that it might someday improve, that if she pushes hard enough and continues to uphold her morals and values, the Seven might twist to her whims and transform into everything that she dreamed it would be. Everything that it purports itself to be. 

Perhaps she is a fool, but she has always sought out the good in the world — looked up at the night sky and only the glittering of the stars spread across its expanse rather than the pitch black void that lies beyond them. 

Footsteps move behind her, and her shoulders tense. 

This is a proper city and not the small town that she hails from, thus not every noise at this time of night means danger, but Annie has a hero's instincts, and she knows when something sounds wrong. 

She starts to turn around, but swiftly finds an unforgiving circle of metal shoved into the small of her back. She can feel it through her jacket and the shirt beneath — cold, dangerous, and armed with a hair-trigger.

She isn’t even dressed in hero garb, and yet here she is being held at gunpoint. 

Under normal circumstances, thwarting a low-level crime like this would be easy. Flash a pair of glowing eyes, cast a few flying sparks, cause a bit of a stir, and this guy would run away faster than a greased pig at a picnic, but she's not allowed to be Starlight while off-duty anymore. 

Or, at least, she's not allowed to be _caught_ being Starlight while off-duty anymore. 

She casts her eyes over the claustrophobic, mist-soaked street, careful not to move her head too much, lest she alarm the man holding her at gunpoint. It seems unlikely that anyone is lurking in a foggy corner with a phone camera set to record, but that seemed unlikely last time, too. 

She will have to handle this the old-fashioned way.

Annie must have turned her chin a bit too far, because the guy holding the gun snaps, "Don't move." 

She stiffens — holding her body completely still, but her mind continues to race just below the surface. 

A single bead of sweat traces the contours of her forehead, collecting on her cheekbone. She can see it lurking just at the edge of her vision — faintly glimmering and just out of focus. 

The gunman is sweating, too. She can smell it. He is either new to this and a bit nervous, or she's not his first target tonight. Given the early hour, she's betting on the former. 

"My wallet's in my front pocket. You can have it if you let me go." The lie falls easily from her lips, with scarcely a tremor of doubt hidden within it. 

Of course, her wallet isn't in her front pocket. It's in her back pocket, but she knows that reaching for the front pocket will put him at a strategic disadvantage. He’ll take his eyes off of his gun, his balance will shift, he’ll be distracted, and altogether, this will will create a crucial window of opportunity for Annie to disarm him and escape, completely power-free. 

She can practically sense his thoughts as he deliberates behind her, each one punctuated by a heavy panting breath that shakes the gun at her back. 

Her skin itches. 

Each second stretches into an eternity. 

Annie rolls her eyes skyward and prays for a shift in the air and a hand to come reaching around her body and a quick comeuppance.

It takes so long for him to decide that she half expects a bullet in her spine for his troubles, but finally, there it is — the shaking, nervous fingers of a guy who doesn’t quite know what he’s doing. He doesn't get a chance to reach her pocket before her hands grip his arm, and she twists around. A quick kick to the groin sends the gun clattering to the ground and a cry of pain echoing down the street. 

The mist doesn't muffle sound as much as it diffuses the light. 

Annie beats him to the fallen weapon and empties the ammunition into first her palm and then her pocket. _Two bullets_. She doubts he plans to shoot anyone with them. She doubts he’s even shot a gun before. 

Annie puts the safety on before she kicks it into the unreachable depths of the nearest gutter. 

"What the fuck, girl?" 

The words come as soon as he manages to catch his breath, but she's already gone, tearing into the night at a sprint that seeks to outrun any watchful eyes or carefully concealed cameras. 

When she's a couple blocks away, she dials the police with the intention of reporting an armed mugger, but she hangs up before the call has a chance to connect. 

Tears well in the corners of her eyes, but they merge with the light sheen that the mist leaves on her skin and disappear. It's almost as if they never were. 

Back home, she would've found pride in taking out an armed man, counted it as lives saved and a difference made, butin the here and now, it feels almost entirely meaningless. He's just a guy in bad circumstances doing what he can to get by. Isn't that who she is now, too? Granted, she's not hurting anyone, but she's not really helping either. 

Suddenly hopeless, she shoves her hands in her pockets, fight back a sob, and slinks back to her apartment, wishing she didn't care quite so much about everything. 

Life would be a little bit easier if she was a little more heartless. 


End file.
